


Crisis of Confidence

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: DCU Reboot, Gen, Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-23
Updated: 2011-10-23
Packaged: 2017-10-25 02:18:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/270642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Halloween, and Booster Gold has everything he wanted:  a leadership position, the respect of his peers, lucrative endorsements.  So why does it feel like something is missing?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crisis of Confidence

"Booster Flakes? I like it! Part of a well-balanced and heroic breakfast!" Booster Gold flashed a gleaming smile, even though the cereal executive on the other end of the line couldn't see it. "Well, you know my schedule as leader of the new _Justice League International_ keeps me busy dealing with world-wide threats the local Justice League can't handle, but...I suppose I could probably shoot a few commercials for it, sure." There was some haggling over dates, some final cheerful nonsense, and the call ended.

Michael's shoulders slumped as the phone went silent. He closed it and slipped it into his jacket pocket, aimlessly kicking a few dry leaves on the pavement. He should be heading home to the Booster Cave and Skeets, but...

There was a little park filled with yelling children and frost-touched grass, with one lone and weathered park bench tucked in a corner. Michael sat down, careful to avoid a repulsive wad of chewing gum. The wood was splintered and worn, a beat-up old relic that had seen more cheerful days. Michael watched the kids running around and screaming. It was Halloween night, and there was the usual assortment of ghosts and witches, Batmen and Wonder Women. A kid dressed as some kind of bright blue crab-alien ran by, and Michael's eyes followed it for a moment. There were even a couple of Booster Golds, he noticed. The sight should fill him with pride, with a feeling of accomplishment. He was one of the big guns now, after all. His team was coming together--they'd accomplished some great things, they'd learned to work together, even Rocket Red and August General in Iron were bickering less. Booster Gold had what he'd always wanted: leadership, recognition, fame. Hell, Batman had his back!

So why did it all feel so...joyless? It just wasn't _fun_. When was the last time he'd laughed out loud? Michael cast his mind back and couldn't remember. It seemed like a long time ago that he'd had a good belly laugh.

Sometimes it felt like he never had at all.

Another kid dressed as Superman ran by, shrieking at a pitch that would have caused Skeets to malfunction, and Michael winced. What was the point of this stupid holiday, anyway? People dressed up in colorful costumes weren't exactly a rare occasion, after all, and begging for candy was a year-round activity for kids.

"It's All Hallows' Eve," answered a voice next to him, and Michael managed to keep from jumping in surprise. Great, now he was talking aloud without noticing. "And it's about a lot more than costumes and candy."

Michael shot a quick look at the guy sitting on the other end of the bench. He didn't look like some kind of supervillain in disguise: brown hair, a blue sweatshirt, a little pudgy. "Yeah?" Michael said in a neutral sort of way, hoping he'd go away.

"Tonight is the night where the wall between the living and dead is at its thinnest," said his bench-mate, watching the kids running around. "It's the one night of the year when the barriers between what is and what is not can be breached, even if only for a moment. The dead and the undead walk the streets, seeking out the souls they once cared for."

"Sounds spooky."

"It can be."

Michael looked at the guy more closely. There was nothing unusual about him. Laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. A gentle mouth. Nothing special. "Have we met before?"

The man looked straight at him for the first time. "No," he said.

A breeze or some kind of chill touched Michael's spine, and he shuddered, pulling his jacket closer. A toddler dressed as Green Lantern launched into a massive temper tantrum, his face bright red and his howls piercing the air, and Michael couldn't help chuckling. "Sometimes I feel like I'm dealing with a bunch of babies in costumes myself," he admitted.

"You know what you should do?" His companion was grinning at him, a conspiratorial smirk. "You should replace Godiva's shampoo with Nair."

Michael blinked at him, then burst into helpless laughter. "She'd--she'd kill me!"

"But wouldn't it be worth it?" The man was laughing too, a manic chuckle that seemed to catch at Michael's soul. "The look on her face! Bald as a cue ball! She'd be like, 'Sod off, you sodding...um...sod!'" The guy's English accent was truly terrible, which only made his screechy delivery that much more hilarious, somehow.

Michael clutched at his stomach, unable to catch his breath. Every time he started to regain control, the image of a furious bald Godiva would rise up in his mind and the giggles would explode from him once more. Tears were streaming down his face, and parents and kids were staring at him, but it felt so good he couldn't care. "Stop it, I'm gonna pass out!" he wheezed, gasping for air. Without thinking, he reached out to punch the man's shoulder.

His fist passed through chilled air, through nothing at all. He stared wildly at the empty space, but the man was gone. Michael was alone on the park bench.

After a little while, he wiped the cold tears from his cheeks and went home.

 **: : :**

"--must remind you, sir, that your ten o'clock is here."

"Yes, Skeets." Booster Gold swiveled his leather chair to look out across the city skyline. They'd given him a ritzy office, and he had to spend hours there every week meeting with reporters, with government officials, with pointless people saying pointless things.

He smiled for them, but he never laughed.

"Sir?" The metallic voice sounded worried. "If I may say so, sir, you seem..." The little robot tilted in the air as if searching for words. "...unhappy, recently."

"I'm fine, Skeets. So who's this meeting with, anyway?" He tried to sound at least minimally interested.

"Don't you remember, sir? He's one of those jack-of-all-trades inventor slash industrialist." Only Skeets would sound out the "slash." "Bruce Wayne just bought out his family firm. He wants to talk to you about starting up a video game company, I believe. I left his card on the desk."

"So you did." Booster picked it up, looking at it without curiosity. It was blue. He turned it over in his hands, watching the letters blur. "Well, best to get it over with. Show him in."

Skeets wafted out of the office, and Michael took a deep breath, bracing himself for another interminable meeting. He knew how they went: the small talk, the incomprehensible technobabble, the discussions of accounting and overhead. All business, no fooling, no jokes.

No laughter.

He heard Skeets' voice in the hall, footsteps outside the room. He put on his best superhero smile, cheerful and empty, and waited for the door to open.


End file.
